


take my heart, pull it apart

by himbodad



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Dysphoria, Fitzroy character study, M/M, No Proofreading We Die Like Men, Trans Male Character, Trans Rainer Michelle, as well as trans woman and trans man solidarity, fitz has body issues :(, gasp no mutual pining tag this time, no reading whatsoever, rainer and fitzroy are once again mlm and wlw solidarity, seriously i finished this and posted it immediately, trans fitzroy maplecourt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-09
Updated: 2020-07-09
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:54:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25159564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/himbodad/pseuds/himbodad
Summary: “That’s okay! That’s okay, Fitz, I’ve got no issue with that! I can talk enough for the two of us until you’re feelin’ better.”Fitzroy laughs. It comes out as a cynical snort. “I’m not going to feel better about this any time soon. You may as well leave and save yourself the effort.”
Relationships: Althea Song/Bloodhawk Barb (Implied), Argo Keene/Sir Fitzroy Maplecourt
Comments: 12
Kudos: 82





	take my heart, pull it apart

**Author's Note:**

> CONTENT WARNING: this fic surrounds Fitzroy's issues with his body, mostly dysphoria, so please be aware of that if you keep reading! 
> 
> inspired by Sheri's (@sheridoodle) post about Argo comforting Fitzroy and the fact that MJ (@moon-jellie) 'dared' me to write it
> 
> i have not relistened to the most recent eps so this is purely based on my memory. fitzroy's issues are mostly based on my own feelings, and i have NO CLUE how relevant some of these things will be to any1 else <3
> 
> title comes from Body by Mother Mother

The first time Fitzroy Maplecourt became acutely aware of his own body was when he was entering his first year of schooling. He was an only child, and had seldom played with other children. Most of his infinite free time was spent listening to his father tell stories of his time on the road or helping his mother with any simple chores he could accomplish without hurting himself. His mother called him her baby. To his father, he was kiddo. Fitzroy was not old enough to understand that anything separated himself from his male relatives. 

His teacher was a kind old man by the name of Arken, with gold rimmed glasses and a wise smile. Fitzroy immediately took a liking to him. He reminded the half elf of his grandfather, who had died when he was far too young to remember much about him. Arken didn’t call him kiddo. Arken called him a name that Fitzroy didn’t like, although he couldn’t understand why.

Fitzroy was told to sit down with a group of girls he’d never seen before. He hadn’t met any of his fellow students before that day, but something about being placed in this seat and not one on the opposite side of the room next to his neighbor Dayrin didn’t feel right. Within moments he was sobbing. His parents were called, and Fitzroy didn’t go back to the school again. 

He spent the rest of his formative years being homeschooled. Mostly, this meant that his mother would hand him textbooks in August, and in late December and early June he would go in and take finals with the local children to prove that he was learning. Fitzroy had very few friends as an infant. This did not change as he grew up.

Around his eleventh birthday, he was finally able to put into words what it was that felt so wrong to him. He was a boy. His birth certificate said otherwise. Fitzroy marched up to his parents and explained to them, in his limited capacity, what he felt and the changes he deemed necessary. They didn’t fully understand, but they wanted to do whatever they could to make their only child as content in his life as they could. 

At thirteen, Fitzroy began to spend more time with the other teenagers in the area who were close enough in age. They didn’t recognize him with his new haircut and masculine clothing. He’d also grown fairly muscular from helping out on the farm, and despite the fact that he feared his short stature would give him away, the local boys didn’t suspect a thing. For over half a year, he fit in. For the first time in his life, he was truly happy. People were recognizing him as the person he truly was. 

Until a few boys came over for dinner at the Maplecourt home. Fitzroy had completely forgotten about the many photos of himself as a child that littered every surface. In many, he was already presenting as masculine, even if it was not intended. His mother had given him an adorably short hairstyle that he’d maintained from infanthood through early adolescence. He probably would have been able to pretend that he’d simply been a very feminine little boy, were it not for the image of Fitzroy at his first birthday. A banner was draped above his head, emblazoned with that name that he so despised. And the child in the photo was wearing a dress, pink sparkles dotting it.

The Maplecourt family moved after that. Jerry was always on the road anyways, so moving from a chunk of farmland to a chunk of farmland fifty miles over wasn’t too bad of an adjustment. The torment Fitzroy endured after his peers discovered his ‘secret’ was too much for him to bear. 

While he had become somewhat accustomed to dressing flamboyantly, with glittering capes that he sewed himself or platform shoes that made him gain an extra inch or two of height that he was desperately lacking, he ditched this in the new town. He had no desire for what happened in his old area to happen again. Fitzroy went against his nature and tried his best to blend in with the crowd. 

He took to wearing dark clothing that was several sizes too big for him over the chest binder that he would wear for indescribably long amounts of time. Breathing was often a struggle, but it was that or be caught in his falsehoods. Fitzroy didn’t want to be a burden to his parents and make them move once again. 

Fitzroy had heard them discussing the move one night, when he was supposed to have been asleep. Jerry was less than pleased with it. He’d had a group of friends back in their old town. Why’d he have to leave them behind for this new, shitty neighborhood? Fitzroy would never forget the penultimate line of his argument:

“For god’s sake, why does our fucked up kid have to rule over everything that we do?”

The dark clothes got bigger after that, as though Fitzroy felt that if he made himself small enough, he would make every issue disappear. Some nights, when the cool darkness of the midnight air smothered him, he would wonder if his existence would ever be excusable.

He despised his height. Real men were taller than five foot whatever. Hell, even his father was 5’9”! And here he was, stuck with a body he hated and a list of issues with himself that could stretch a mile. 

His nose was too small, his eyelashes too long. Fitzroy would spend hours observing every aspect of himself. Trying his damndest to find something about his dreaded form that he could fix. Occasionally, it would make him physically sick. He could barely stand to acknowledge that he had a body others could observe, let alone the fact that so much of it was ugly or so feminine it hurt him. 

Fitzroy refused to leave the house most days, preferring to stay at home. At least then he could lay perfectly still under his blankets with no chest binder on and pretend that there was nothing there that needed restricting in the first place. At least then he could hide his shame, hide his knowledge of his father’s disgust. 

The students of Clyde Nite’s were no better to him than any of the local children had been. They mocked him not only for his lack of funds but also his lack of what they considered to be manliness. His birth identity was plastered on every role sheet. His peers were able to see through his lies easily, and they spent the rest of his time there torturing him.

It was at this point that Fitzroy began to pay excruciating detail to every inch of his body. He worked hard to emphasize his muscle, appear more like the man that he apparently would never be. What little self esteem he’d held before had all but vanished. Every change in his appearance was catalogued mentally. Gained two pounds of muscle mass. Good. Cut on the knee looks like it may scar. Bad.

Being at Wiggenstaffs was the first time that he started to believe that he belonged. The professors and students alike never poked fun at his differences. Hell, most of the students didn’t even know! For the first time in Fitzroy Maplecourt’s life, he truly had friends. 

Rainer Michelle became the first non-family member that Fitzroy willingly revealed his identity to. She gave him a hug tighter than any he’d ever experienced before and said she was unbelievably proud of him. She then added on that she was trans as well, that they were the perfect duo. If anyone gave them shit, Rainer said, they would kick their asses together. 

Fitzroy’s relationship with his body was officially on the mend. Rainer had him working on self confidence, and he’d stopped paying such close attention to the minute changes of his looks. Everything was going great.

And then he got cursed! Rough luck on its own, but it meant that Althea had to basically brand him. A massive scar. Ugly. Disgusting. All that he had spent months working on was quickly going down the drain as he spiraled. 

The fight against the pit fiend was more difficult that Fitzroy was honestly fit to endure at the moment. His mental state was in shambles. With emotions on the fritz, he wasn’t sure of the stability of… well, anything about himself. So when he spontaneously grew eight inches, it wasn’t exactly a surprise. 

He didn’t honestly have time to consider what had happened until after the battle had concluded and he was safe. And to be honest, at first he was thrilled! Sure, his clothing was virtually destroyed. Fitzroy was left in what could be be described as a crop top and cutoffs, which was not his usual look. Still, he was tall! That aspect of masculinity that still evaded him, long after he’d undergone surgery and started hormones to shape himself into the man he was inside, he had it now. No one could invalidate him now, not if they wanted to make it out of that situation unharmed. Then again, who would dare insult a man who towered over them, all muscle and pure adrenaline?

“Nice outfit!” Althea calls from a distance. She has one arm wrapped around a limping Bloodhawk Barb, who’s leg appears to be slightly damaged. Barb whispers something in her ear and the two continue on their way inside.

Fitzroy takes notice of his body as he observes his newly ripped clothing. The scar on his chest is more noticeable. Oh well, he thinks to himself. What would Rainer say about this? She’d tell me to see it as just another addition to my rugged handsomeness. Yes, that could work…

Until his eyes catch something he had yet to notice. All up and down his body, although they appear most prevalent around his stomach and thighs, are thin white scars. Stretch marks, by the looks of them. Fitzroy’s breathing speeds up until he’s hyperventilating. His hands shake as he tugs at the hem of his shirt, trying valiantly to disguise the new, horrid parts of himself. 

“Fitzroy? Fitzroy, are you okay?” A hand rests on his shoulder. Argo’s hand. Oh god, he can’t allow Argo to see him like this. It was bad enough that the genasi has seen his top surgery scars, and these are far beyond that! 

Fitzroy runs. He runs as fast as his now longer legs can take him until he’s far enough away from his friends that he feels safe enough to break down. The ground is hard and cruel. This doesn’t stop him from falling onto it with full force. 

Argo finds him, curled up in an alleyway, tears streaming down his face as he rocks back and forth. The barbarian is so far gone from the rest of the world that he doesn’t hear Argo walking up to him. Fitzroy begins to shake even harder as his friend once again places a steadying hand on him.

“Please… please Argo, just leave me be.” 

“I’m not gonna do that Fitz, not until ya can tell me what’s wrong.” His voice is soft, as though he’s soothing a frightened animal. “Are you hurt?”

“No. No, I’m not. I’m perfectly alright, and I’ll be better if you leave.” Fitzroy hisses. 

“I may not know what’s going on here, but I know for a fact that ain’t true. Fitzroy, you’re shaking!”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“That’s okay! That’s okay, Fitz, I’ve got no issue with that! I can talk enough for the two of us until you’re feelin’ better.”

Fitzroy laughs. It comes out as a cynical snort. “I’m not going to feel better about this any time soon. You may as well leave and save yourself the effort.”

For a moment, Argo sits in silence, pondering what could’ve possibly affected his friend in such a way. The fact that he was cursed hasn’t seemed to be an issue, although it isn’t out of the realm of possibility. Fitzroy hasn’t had periods of significant dysphoria recently. Besides, those are usually characterized by a different sort of breakdown. Is it the fact that he’s grown? 

The stretch marks catch his eye, and suddenly a wave of memories flow into Argo’s mind. All of the conversations he’s had with Fitzroy about the half elf’s severe body issues. The ways that he’s been teaming up with Rainer to silence the voices in his mind that tell him he’s ugly, that he’s unworthy of love based on his looks. To a person in such a fragile state as that, suddenly developing patches of scars up and down a majority of your body would certainly be enough to set him off in such a way. 

“Fitzroy. Is this about the stretch marks?” Argo asks. His tone is calm, twinged with concern.

“Is this about the stretch marks?” Fitzroy parrots in a mockery of Argo’s voice. “Of course it is! I can barely stand to look at myself right now, Argo, so I’d appreciate it if you-”

“Do you understand how beautiful you are?” He interrupts. “You’re the most handsome man I’ve ever seen. Your scars don’t change that. Your stretch marks don’t change that. If anything, they enhance it! Fitzroy, any person on this planet would kill to be with you. I, uh, I certainly am interested in the idea.”

“I doubt it.” Fitzroy scoffs. 

Argo runs a finger over one of the stretch marks on Fitz’s thigh until he reaches the bottom of his shorts. He then moves on to the next, hand skimming over the mess of marks with devotion. When he’s traced all of the visible blemishes on his right thigh, Argo presses a kiss to it before moving on to the left. He continues in this same form with all scars that aren’t covered by the remains of Fitzroy’s clothing. 

He wraps his arms tenderly around his friend, gently caressing his arms. The barbarian’s breathing slows, bit by bit, as the genasi continues to console him. Whispers of his attractiveness enter Fitzroy’s ears. He blushes, adding to the preexisting red of his tear-splotched face. 

When Fitzroy has it in him to look his friend in the eye, he can see the concern and care that fills them. He releases a gentle sigh before leaning in. The two of them meet in the middle, lips just barely ghosting over the others. Argo cradles Fitzroy’s face as they pull apart. 

“I love you.” Argo murmurs. Fitzroy’s heart soars, and he can’t help but smile.


End file.
